“Fatherhood for the Fatherless”
I never had a map, only the memory of roads that led nowhere.Two boys and a little girl call me “Dad,” while I still wonder how to wear the name.I fear the shadows I inherited will find their way into their hearts.Every mistake feels louder because I have no father’s voice to measure it against.Some nights I grieve the lessons I was never given.Still, I rise before the sun, choosing love over the silence that raised me.My children will never know the emptiness that taught me to survive.Instead, they’ll know scraped knees kissed, bedtime stories finished, and arms that never let go.The cycle ends where my footsteps begin, even if they stumble.Because a father isn’t the man who had one—he’s the man who chooses to become one.
P